Chapter Text
There was nothing in the world that sounded quite like a human body falling into a dumpster. It was a sound that Matt was deeply, deeply familiar with. It was a sound that he had created on more than one occasion, both as the person causing the fall and as the person doing the falling. This time, however, and he hoped thankfully, he was not responsible for the sound occurring. He focused his senses. Problem was, and yeah this was a bit rude to acknowledge but that didn’t make it any less accurate, if it wasn’t him hitting the dumpster or doing the hitting, then there was a good chance it was…
Matt heard the groan first, followed by a whisper of his name. “ Matty.”
“I’m coming, buddy,” Matt said quietly, to himself. The man in the dumpster couldn’t hear him half the time when they were in the same room; he certainly couldn’t hear Matt from across town.
Matt found him a few blocks east of the Kitchen. He had at least four broken ribs - they rattled when he breathed - his shoulder was dislocated, and… fuck… there was bullet in his leg. The injured man was applying pressure and had stopped most of the bleeding, but Matt could smell the bullet rubbing up against the bone. He lifted the lid to the dumpster.
“Ah fuck; you came.“
“You called me, man.“
“Yeah, but I was hoping you wouldn’t come. Now I suppose you have to tell him.“
“Where’s your bag?”
“‘S in here with me.“ Clint kicked his foot, the leg that hadn’t been shot, and Matt heard the arrows rattle against each other. He jumped into the dumpster and Clint winced slightly when Matt’s landing shook the metal structure.
Matt dug in Clint’s quiver, pulled out a roll of bandages, and began to dress Clint’s wounds. And yeah, they’re in a dumpster so he probably should be sanitizing these, but on the other hand they’re in a dumpster so how much could it possibly matter anyway. “Where do you want me to take you? The Tower? Claire?”
Clint groaned. “Can’t you just deal with it?”
Matt’s voice was calm and measured as he continued to wrap bandages around Clint’s leg. “You’ve got a bullet in your leg and your left shoulder is dislocated. I can get the bullet out, but I might do more damage which means it would take longer to heal. I can also try to reset the shoulder, but it sounds pretty bad and you need that shoulder strong. I think you want a professional to do it.”
Clint grunted as Matt hoisted him to his feet and helped him out of the dumpster. “If I go to Claire,” he said, as they began to walk towards the street and out of the alley, “she’ll tell him.”
“Dude. That doesn’t even matter because you’re going to tell him. And you’re going to tell him because if you don’t then I have to and he’ll just get mad at me. Which would not be fair. Got it?”
Clint grumbled something that Matt knew was not words.
“Why don’t you want to go home?”
Clint was silent.
“What did you do?”
“Call Claire,” Clint sighed.
Matt pulled out his phone. “Call Claire.”
She answered after only one ring. “How bad?”
“Not that bad. It’s Clint. He’s stable. He has a bullet in his leg but the bleeding has stopped, four broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. He’s walking. He’ll be fine. You around? If you’re busy, I can take him to the tower.”
“Put him on speaker.”
Matt handed Clint the phone. He didn’t need to put it on speaker; he could hear the conversation just fine.
“Hey, Claire…”
“Did you call him yet?” Claire interrupted.
“Matt literally just pulled me out of a dumpster,” Clint whined.
“He’s there. He’s there before I get there or I turn around and go home and you can go get fixed up at the tower and tell Steve that you went after the Cartel even after he explicitly told you not to. Also, you owe me a bottle of tequila. Good stuff. No shitty Cuervo.”
“Fine,” Clint pouted.
“See you at Matt’s. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Claire disconnected the call.
Clint stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then turned to Matt as if asking to be saved.
“This is all on you, pal.”
“I’m going to be in so much fucking trouble.”
Matt shrugged. “I warned you. I warned you not to start dating him.”
“He’s so cute though.”
Matt laughed at that. “How do you think I feel? Now I can’t sleep with either of you. Who am I going to call when things get desperate?”
“Matty, you just need to go to the bar. You’re pretty and you’ve got a good job. Everyone wants to fuck you.”
“Ugh. Going to a bar is so much work. It’s loud and smokey, and I have to put on pants. I’m better off just calling Jessica.”
“She’s going to break you one of these days.”
Matt grinned.
“Gross.” Clint stared down at the phone in his hands. “Fine.” He pushed the button to activate voice calling. “Call Foggy.”
***
“Clint!”
Foggy was already in Matt’s apartment when the two heroes dropped in through the skylight.
“Clint. Baby. Oh my god are you ok? Come here. You look terrible.”
Clint shifted his weight from Matt’s shoulders to Foggy’s, and the two men carefully climbed down Matt’s narrow staircase to the living room below. Matt pulled off his cowl and ran his fingers through his hair while Foggy settled Clint onto the couch, the archer’s head resting in his lap.
Matt listened. Clint was clearly in pain, but his heart and breathing were strong. He was going to be fine. Matt wanted to tuck himself into the couch between them, to learn what it might feel like to have both of their bodies pressing on him at the same time. Instead, he climbed down the stairs and opened the door for Claire before she had the chance to knock.
“Matthew,” she greeted him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. She looked him over once, taking in the red suit disapprovingly, then moved towards the couch. “You going back out tonight?”
“Maybe,” Matt answered. “Hadn’t decided.”
“Well I only make one house call a night, so keep that in mind.” She turned to Clint. “And what happened to you?”
Clint smiled up at her from his place on the couch, Foggy’s fingers raking gently across his scalp. “You know, same old story. Met some guys. Had a disagreement. Fell off a building and into a dumpster. Just your typical Tuesday night.”
“Don’t forget to add ‘got shot in the leg,’” Matt reminded him.
Claire looked between the two of them, then set to work on Clint. “I’m going to give you something to numb the pain,” she said quietly. “Pulling that bullet out is going to hurt like a bitch.” She gave him a shot near the wound, then began to work at setting his shoulder and ribs.
Matt did his best to tune them out. Claire was deep in thought, focused on her work, and Clint and Foggy’s quiet conversation wasn’t meant for him. Instead, he turned his senses outward towards the neighborhood. It was late and Hell's Kitchen was mostly quiet. There was an argument about a tab outside of Josie’s and there were some kids dealing pot on 53rd. A minor domestic dispute was occurring in an apartment on 44th, and Matt made a mental note to keep them on his radar, but it wasn’t anything that demanded his immediate attention.
He grabbed a beer from the otherwise empty fridge and thought about Foggy and Clint. This thing between them had been building for a year now - ever since Marci left to go be a partner at a firm in L.A. - and he was glad that they’d finally gotten their shit together. Yeah, it meant he was losing both of his favorite fuck buddies in one swoop, but it also meant his two best friends were happy and that was probably more important. Probably.
The thing was, they were perfect for each other. It pained Matt’s black, jaded, isolationist heart to admit it, but they were probably soulmates or some shit. Foggy, for all his trying to convince the world that he’s a giant teddy bear, was a bossy little fucker in the courtroom and the bedroom. And Clint, for all his swagger, just wanted someone to take care of him and tell him he was wanted and good. Matt had been fully content filling both roles, but really it was like they’d been made for each other. Not that Matt believed in that sort of shit. But yeah, for as much as Matt hated to lose what he had, this was 100% what he’d hoped for when he introduced them.
That didn’t mean it didn’t suck. Especially on nights like tonight when he hadn’t gotten a good fight in and he could feel that itch building under his skin. Clint was right; he could go to the bars, but by the time he was feeling that desperate - as was the case tonight - it was usually too late. Either the bars were already closed, or they were about to and everyone who was left wasn’t worth his time or energy. He considered, for a moment, calling Jessica, but Clint was right there too. She was a bit too rough for him on a normal night. Sure, there were times when that level of abuse was exactly what he needed, and he was happy to be there for Jess now that Luke was absolutely out of the picture, but not tonight.
He sighed and went back to scanning the neighborhood. His building was totally quiet...
...Except there was someone on his roof.
Matt cocked his head, focusing on the space above his building. There was definitely someone up there. He wasn’t doing anything - just sitting quietly on the edge, legs dangling off the side. It’s not the first time Matt has noticed him, either. This guy has been popping up on Matt’s radar across the kitchen for a week now, and he was pretty hard to miss. He was enhanced; that much was obvious. His nervous system was all fucked up, and that was probably an understatement. Either this guy was not human, or there was something seriously wrong with him. Maybe both.
It wasn’t quite clear if he was a vigilante or a villain either. He had twin swords strapped to his back, and enough firepower to make Frank jealous. He was costumed and masked, but his suit didn’t seem to provide any level of protection. Even Matt’s black suit was better. He could smell the spandex now that he was focusing, there didn’t appear to be any built in armor, and - in terms of the cut at least - the costume was pretty simple. Costumed villains tended to be a bit more flamboyant than a simple stretchy onesie…
Still, with that many guns, Matt felt safe assuming he wasn’t a good guy.
“You with us, Matt?” Claire pulled him out of his trance.
“What?”
Claire shook her head. “I said he’s all done, but he probably shouldn’t move any more than necessary. Can he stay here tonight?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, of course. Foggy, you guys can take my bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
He could feel Claire eyeing him suspiciously as Foggy started to move Clint to the bedroom. “You ok?”
“Yeah. Just tired. Maybe I’ll call it an early night myself.”
“I mean, it’s after 3:30 in the morning, but sure. If that’s an early night for you…”
Matt smiled at her. “Thank you for your help. Do you want me to call you a cab? Walk you home?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Claire slipped on her coat. “Just be sure Bird-Brains gets me my tequila, ok?”
“You got it.”
Claire gave him a hug. When she pulled away, she held on tight to his shoulders. “And Matt, I know that expression. Don’t do anything stupid tonight, ok?”
“I’ll do my best.”
By the time Claire was gone, the man on the roof had left too. Matt pulled his cowl back on and headed up there anyway. He was just going to track Claire, he told himself. To make sure she made it home safe. And if he also happened to search for the man with the swords, well that was just him being thorough.